


Rose and Roxy and Kanaya All Do It, and What’s More, They Do It With Each Other - All Three of Them

by obstreperose



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Incest, Rimming, Scent Kink, Tentabulges, Threesome - F/F/F, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstreperose/pseuds/obstreperose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Roxy and Kanaya, and Rose too, all kiss each other in various configurations. Hearts race, hangups roil, and asses are eaten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rose and Roxy and Kanaya All Do It, and What’s More, They Do It With Each Other - All Three of Them

She ran five fingers through her hair, frowning as they came back slightly sticky. Of course: a faint flash of guilt and memory ran through her brain like a note from nowhere. She hadn’t slept at home.

Roxy murmured under her breath, lips pushing apart and pursing returningly, as she lifted herself up in the soporific slime the heavy-barked recuperacoon was flush to the sides with. She’d never slept better: dreams had been pacifistic black, the velvety touch of her aspect enshrouding her racing mind and letting it spend a century away from time.

The only problem was that she still felt as though she was half-dreaming. She moved with her hips, testing to see if she could fly. Wait - no - she’d been able to fly while she was awake for a little while now. Damn! This stuff did a number on you.

Being that there was now no conclusive way to tell whether or not she was dreaming, it was even more difficult to believe the source of the soft, throaty murmur that made Roxy’s neck stir to the side and see the long nose, jade-flushed skin, characteristic of her ecto-sister’s matesprit.

Yikes.

Kanaya’s eyes flicked open as if she could sense the sudden racing of Roxy’s heartbeat - which, to be fair, she most likely could. At first she’d thought Rose’s relationship with a troll was very cute. The more time she’d spent with the pair of them, the more she’d hastily addendum-ed that notion to: “and a l’il scary”.

Kanaya wasn’t just tall and stately. She had ways of looking at you that made you feel like one of the poor schmucks in a gothic horror novel who never leaves the castle alive. You occasionally caught Rose staring into her eyes while she did this. It was unnerving.

“Hello Roxy,” came that cool, elocuted near-monotone, the subtle warmth of rough paper under it. Kanaya’s affection was a rich vein, but very understated. “Looking at you I would guess you slept well.”

Roxy made a face with her teeth, realising only now that she had gotten quite a lot of sopor in her hair. It felt like cool aloe against her brow. She was trembling all over: tiny ripples in the surface of the clinging semi-translucent aloe green.

“Uh, yeah, I did.” She couldn’t keep her eyes off Kanaya’s bare breasts: wide-spread, their painterly grey aureolae capped with dusky jade that pebbled even now as she stretched her arms, yawned slightly, like a tiger waking. Of course she was naked too - this stuff ruined clothes, she remembered someone telling her last night - but right now Roxy was entirely externally focused.

“I should hope so.” And there it was: the thing she’d been vaguely hoping really had been a dumb idiot dream. Short-fingered hands eased wide the side of the cocoon, a little slime spilling loose as light spilled in. “After all, we tried our very best to tire you out.”

Rose was wearing a towel and a smirk. She looked altogether too audacious for her own good: whereas last night, when Roxy had thrown away the good manners playbook and made a move on her, she had looked virginal and shocked.

She hadn’t expected Kanaya to get involved. But once she did, it had all sort of made sense: in a gritty, touch-tactile way that rasped against her thoughts a little, but thrilled her too.

As it turned out, Rose and Kanaya were not so hung up on the whole monogamy thing. In fact, they were astonishingly less hung up on it than last night’s Roxy, who had gone in for the kiss on those familiar lips in a moment of foolish want, had expected. Flashes of it all came back to her: another set of strong hands, long-fingered, on her back as she made out with Rose, pulling off her - friend’s clothes, Kanaya nibbling at her neck in a way that was half inciting and half considering. She could still feel tiny puncture wounds there: shuddered slightly with the memory. Rose had kissed the hurt better afterwards.

Once she’d started kissing, they had made it all-the-way easy for her to tip over the edge.

And now, here she was on the other side.

“‘sup Rose,” she said, wrinkling her nose slightly.

“You’re blushing,” said Rose. Kanaya’s yellow-scleraed eyes tracked the blush with a faint thoughtful smile.

“It’s really hot in here,” she said, easing herself up in the slime so that her soft belly was a little exposed, averting her eyes slightly with a tiny sigh of relieved breath. “Phew. ‘s’better.”

“I think it hit her fairly hard,” said Kanaya, easing her fingers against her own hard, orange-yellow nails, checking under them for grazes. Even waking, nude, she was so comported you could scream.

“My first time was similar,” said Rose, in a wry, innuendo-laden way.

“Shut up, it wasn’t my first time,” said Roxy with an eye-creased smile, laughing a little. “Your innuendo doesn’t even work, it’s non-functional if it was only my first time at slime. You just fired a dud burn flare,” she took in a heavy breath, trying to find her wits at the bottom of her lungs, “and now we’re all marooned in shitfuck island forever and we’re gonna have to decide who eats each other first.”

Kanaya glanced at her hungrily. Rose lifted an eyebrow. Roxy decided that she had made a poor choice of patter for probably more than one reason.

She wriggled up, past the opening Rose had left ajar in the cocoon, and straggled naked standing, dripping slime onto the rug. She felt full, invigorated, and at the same time walking on stars: despite niggling reservations that roiled like subliminal eels in her tummy, it had been a gorgeous night.

Roxy didn’t care at all. Of course. About that. It was only that she had assumed Rose would care about it, and the fact that she didn’t seem to had caught her off-guard. She’d been anticipating a spirited defense of her own perfectly natural feelings. She’d even prepared several killer lines.

Instead Rose had just kissed her back and Roxy had pretty quickly been in the middle of two bodies that both knew how to do it a lot better than hers did. Sinuous, arcing grey at her back - soft wry touches at her front, the under-shallows of her light breasts, pumping up between her legs in steady synchronicity as Kanaya purred hard promises into her ear.

O-oh. Okay. Don’t think about that right now, she thought, self-defeatingly. Her thighs, downy with blonde hair, shifted together a little too easily as she made for the four-poster bed that stood in neat parallel to the husky recuperacoon in Kanaya and Rose’s bedroom.

“You split your nights between the both of these?” she asked, flopping backwards onto it, gasping as the lavender silk caught her. She’d never felt entirely comfortable about asking before. But fuck it: this was a time for new frontiers.

“It depends on how Rose is feeling,” said Kanaya, emerging long-legged from the cocoon herself, and Roxy went all wide-eyed and heart-gooey, lifting one thigh up to cover herself slightly, a shy reaction. Rose snickered: Roxy, with a sinking heart, was distinctly aware that Rose knew she had a crush on her girlfriend.

It wasn’t hard to tell, in fairness. And harder still not to have the feeling pump up in your chest at the sight of Kanaya’s limber, long body, her hands falling on Rose’s shoulders from behind, hips mapping to just beneath Rose’s waist, her nose burying itself in Rose’s hair as she kissed her matesprit’s tight curls. The sheathe of her bulge, an impudent little jut of suggestion, stood up above the tiny, narrow lips of her nook. Roxy had another memory. She blushed a little deeper.

Kanaya was so tall. And strong. And - her hands on you, shaping the straight of your back, her voice telling you to Keep Up as Rose pumped increasingly frantic fingers into your hot, clenching pussy - the feeling of that unsheathing weight coiling with hot, slippery puissance against the small of Roxy’s back, Kanaya rutting against her bare body without even twitching her hips, little _hssh_ es of harsh breath as she took pleasure from watching Rose work -

Roxy had to stop thinking about it. She could feel her abdomen pulsing in a hot tightness of want and the sheets threatened to become slippery beneath her. No - that was just slime. Was it? She couldn’t tell. God, she was so horny.

Still. It really hadn’t worn off. She’d kinda thought it might have by now. Not her day, she guessed. If anything, yesterday had been, and now was Fuck-it Friday. Or whatever day it was. She’d never in her life made a habit of keeping track.

Rose watched her like an ibis, pulling her towel around her slight bust - a mirror of Roxy’s - with a soft smirk.

“Yes,” she said, trying to break the moment of stiff silence, or perhaps just ease it into a new dimension, “if I’m feeling like I want to sleep with a partner who isn’t tossing in the throe of ventral nightmare until the small and then subsequently large hours, it’s slime time.

Otherwise, the bed.”

“Sometimes I don’t mind all the ventral nightmares really,” said Kanaya, her voice rolling along like a record skipping on a sequence of words without hitting any twice. She had that curious stop-start way of talking and Roxy was pretty sure Rose’s heart beat to it. It was a little gross to watch how in love they were.

Well. Not really. Nice.

“The nights where you don’t try to sleep, you mean,” said Rose to her matesprit with a perk of lips, and rolled her towel out from around her fluffy hips, slapped it against Kanaya’s front. “Go on. Dress. You’re driving my - Roxy wild.”

“I am really wild now, not g’na lie,” she muttered, resisting the urge to splay her fingers over her eyes. Agh! ‘My Roxy’? What the fuck was that?

Honestly, it was shit like this that had made her want to kiss Rose in the first place. Things had really swiftly become so aggressively Oedipal-Calyptan that it was impossible to bear with it all simmering on the surface like that. Someone had needed to stir the pot.

She was a pretty veteran pot-stirrer. So it had been easy: just push the button on the feeling, and hit play. Let it wind out, no rewind, see what happens.

She’d kind of not figured on Rose’s girlfriend. Or her massive, burgeoning attraction to that stately grey form that was, on the balance of things, probably decided by genetic predisposition. Kanaya pulled the towel on and stepped to the bathroom as Rose, naked as birth, moved on full hips towards her and slipped down onto the body-clinging sheets. Light static discharged as she shifted near Roxy, hip to hip. She embraced her: Roxy trembled like an embarrassed, loving leaf as Rose’s hand fit itself to the back of her wrist and they sat side by side, right breast to left breast.

“I’m very aware that this is weird,” she said, her voice, calm and still but more human than Kanaya’s, pitching up and then down slightly as her hand tenderly massaged Roxy’s wrist. “However, I do like you rather a lot. We never - well, you never - knew each other growing up. We are also unlikely to produce progeny.”

“Are you convincing yourself or me?” said Roxy, with a little ‘heh!’ of breath. She was smiling again: she couldn’t help it: looking at Rose, she couldn’t help it. She kissed her. The lips met together like they’d been shaped for each other, and Rose’s breath tasted like toothbrush and woman. Roxy’s hand slipped between her friend’s thighs, stroking over the inner side of one, full and downy - like her own - with soft, blonde hair, though Rose’s was slightly darker than hers.

Her lover - her Rose - eased apart her legs for her, not just admitting but eager to give access, and then Roxy’s fingers were tracing up against the un-seen but oh-so-deeply felt inner lips of her lover’s vulva, long and loose-hanging: she could scoop them up in her fingers and push them back against Rose, ease her thumb between the channel of them, pressing it not in but with a sawing pressure that _suggested_ in against that wet, central warmth. Rose’s clit presided above this: untouched: Roxy knew it was aching for that. She made Rose wait almost two entire seconds.

Then she was clambering down on her knees, her index finger rubbing and coddling at that clit in slow circles as her lover spread her fulsome thighs and Roxy kneeled her lips between them, hair brushed by the sides of Rose’s warm, shower-fresh skin, as she took a deep breath of her sex - deep, musky, still-aroused scent, and her tongue ran in over it.

Up. Lap. Ease back, then furrow up, following the path her thumb had taken mere moments before. Her tongue spreading wide, then narrowing to a cat’s tip and pushing into Rose for just a micron second, ravelling up again, drooling with her mother’s arousal -

Shit. No, don’t think that. Totally antediluvian hangup. Roxy pressed her mouth in an urging kiss against Rose’s vulva, quelling the low-down churning feeling of raw want with pretends at romance. She found herself sucking: Rose’s long inner lips against her mouth, her tongue parsing the border of them to dapple in soft swirls as Rose let out a huff of intent through her nose and settled her hands on Roxy’s shoulder, her soft hair, not pushing her in but easing her through what she seemed to intuitively sense was a moment of indecision.

That helped her to decide. Breathing, leaning away a little, her lips and her chin and her jaw smeared with Rose, alight with Rose, her lover’s scent clinging to her, Roxy flicked a look back up at her and tried a soft grin.

“Sorry if I’m a little fucked up about it,” she said, and she laughed, and then Rose laughed, too, just very softly, and smiled, and eased at her hair, and Roxy shivered as that familiar-foreign finger slipped behind the curve of her ear and then she was in back, kissing Rose’s thigh again, her mouth leaving lip-shapes behind it from the loving pressure, her nose scenting Rose’s sex and her tongue re-starting in shy sallies against her puffed, hair-curly outer lips. She moved in close towards her goal as if navigating her: first right outer lip, then left, and then she was breathing Rose’s sex and Rose was twisting against her and those guiding hands became clutching, fingers seizing, where Roxy’s lips twinned around her clit and tongue-tip flicked back and forth over it, fingers rose up, and they repaid the favour, shallowing in at first then plunging, pumping, and Rose whimpered as she rode it out. Between her own legs Roxy felt slick and already-full, thighs tensing together in rhythm with her lover’s jolts of spinny climax.

“Seems like you two got down to it,” said Kanaya, standing clotheless and shower-fresh in the doorway, her shaggy-sleek black hair now more neatly arraigned to place. Rose jolted up with big, wide eyes. Roxy stayed panting beneath the musky, heart-thumping meridian of her girlfriend’s climax. Alright, she thought. ‘Girlfriend’ is better. Let’s try to parcel out what’s happening here into waves. She kissed Rose on the very inner of her thigh and tasted how slippery she was with her own sex, even after the hungry roll and lave of Roxy’s tongue. She’d swallowed a lot of it. Rose tasted good.

~

“I’m going to refuse to make the pun,” said Rose, her hand slowly going down to Roxy’s shoulder, helping her up, as her shock resolved into flushed, post-climactic composure - as far composed as she could get, at least, when her body was still shivering with the aftershocks and her toes curled against her mother-daughter’s back. That was it, she thought: inconsistent. Maybe better to let it all sit in quantum flux than arrive at a firm metric for measuring this. Veiled feelings worked themselves out by a process of slow enshaded ripples behind voluminous fabric: you only saw the shapes of them, not the nature, and the shapes were all you wanted to see. In this case.

Most of her shapes seemed to be concentrated around her thighs, abdomen, heart thumping in her chest, the slow simple sympathy of her lips as she wondered how Roxy’s felt after pressing themselves to her where Kanaya’s had been, and she wondered as well (marvelled really) at how distinct those two sensations were - the arch, wide-lipped movements of Kanaya’s mouth vs. the trembly, eager sucking of Roxy’s. She could feel her own remnant heat on the undersides of her thighs.

“Wow you’re truly principled,” said Kanaya, and took herself to the bed above Rose, leaning hands down and pushing gently at her matesprit’s shoulders, until Rose leaned slightly back, head tilted slightly up, and received the swooping kiss.

Then: those long-fingered hands continual: further back still, onto her back, and Kanaya letting out a low hiss of long-restrained want as she mapped her thigh to Rose’s thigh and the cartilage-hooked tip of her bosky bulge, undulating and swelling slightly, passed the sheathe, heavy, messy sound of its fuller weight following behind it and turning in a writhesome half-loop against Rose’s thigh. She wrinkled her nose and let out a sharp little breath: Kanaya’s body, taking her by seasons in that impulsive way she loved, blocked out all sight of Roxy. She began by heartbeats to lose herself in those yellow-scleraed eyes, one leg passing its weight to the side as she felt her already-warm, already-slick vulva greet the cool-hot tip of her matesprit’s considerable bulge with a hot thrumming feeling.

~

Roxy stared at this ludicrous bullshit with lips (mouth still wet and the taste of - Rose still heavy on her tongue, yeah that’s it) - with lips agape and the taut, angular shape of Kanaya’s body right in front of her, one knee lifting onto the bed, one foot supporting her as she let out soft, animalistic huffs of breath, wide shoulders tremor-ing slightly, going through little delectating spasmodies. Whatever it was that was happening in the biochemical element of her alien body’s pleasure centres, it looked like a party.

They’d just started fucking in front of her. Well: or were about to. Roxy could detect the slight urging roll of Kanaya’s hips, stemmed by soft “oh-oh” murmurs from Rose that maybe said something between “not yet” and “not quite”. Not even so much as, hey Roxy, maybe a good time to fix yourself breakfast now, we got something to get down to.

As she thought, her heart thumping in her chest, the situation progressed. Rose was urging herself back - Roxy could see her ecto-mother’s thighs spreading around the dagger-shape of Kanaya’s hips, finding a way for the two pieces to interlock, even watching it was like poetry, and that was only their bodies, only their twin shapes. Her hand slipped almost regretfully between her legs as she found herself unable to resist imagining the slick weight of the heavy, musky bulge, limpid with wetness and its own slick sensation heat and fluidity at once - the same bulge that had coiled and rucked against her thigh last night - _into_ you - into Rose, and god damn it she needed something to stem the gap.

She spread her outer lips between thumb and middle finger, wincing almost at how slippery she was with an unsatisfied, rolling heat to which last night’s dirty, blush-faced fingerbang had really just been the aperitif, and ran the pad of her index finger up against herself until she tapped at her clit and -

She heaved forward, hit by something on the cusp of an orgasm but not quite, just from that, from only that, and then she was where she had wanted to be all morning and some of last night. She could barely look at Kanaya’s smooth, grey thighs, her hairless legs not intentional but some congenital alien quirk: the skin felt smooth and just slightly more rigid than her own or Rose’s as she softed one hand to it from behind. Kanaya made a firm sound in her throat. Above Roxy’s head and a foot forward, the lurid, body-heavy noises of sexual interlock had ramped up slightly. The troll might not even have noticed Roxy had touched her.

She took to her knees easily: the carpet was soft enough to feel like an old friend. Half-closing her eyes, fine blonde brows crooking, she leaned in with her mouth and softed a kiss against Kanaya’s tense, shapely right buttock. She could taste the distilling heat of the shower and something deeper under that: alien skin, the tiny trace remnants of aloe-like sopor gel. Hint of Kanaya’s natural musk: tense and tart and earthy. She kissed again, and let her tongue spread up to lick, not feeling stupid now like she had at first. She was way too into this girl for that.

A soft laugh up above from Rose: it was like they, making love, were in another world, and Roxy was pushing her fingers, her mouth, her tongue through into its very edge at odd intervals that only Kanaya might feel. She eased her thumb into the inner cleft of Kanaya’s cheek, spreading it very slightly - a half-centimetre - and there was a _chirr_ ed sound in some up-above long throat at that. She dared herself and dived in.

Her tongue discovered the spread-soft puffiness of Kanaya’s asshole with heart-thumping glee, its spread surface touching there and being surprised at how diffuse and accommodating, how it tensed gently but did not resist the wide pressure of her tongue - how hot her own face felt at the deepness of the blush rolling and re-rolling over them - and how fucking wet she was where, unsteady on her knees, her own fingers dragged repeatedly over the outer surface of her vulva, rucking up against the base-point of her clit without touching it and repeating.

Licking, lapping, at Kanaya was like spreading her hot, spit-slick tongue against something equally soft, equally febrile. You could feel, at the edge of your thumb and under the spit-swaddled strokes that she found herself repeating in a slow, hungry rhythm, the map of delicate wrinkles that lead in towards the centre of her pucker, but that definition was all in a puffy, drool-catching softness that made her lips want to kiss against it. They did.

The sound was like a light sucking, and she realised with a huff that that had been her. Her spit came down into her throat tasting of Kanaya - clean, but musky, intimate, in a way no other part of the body probably was. Roxy heaved breath forwards, glad she had those strong legs to ease her weight against when the sheer tensile reality of how hot this was began to pummel her - and realised that now Kanaya’s hips were rolling slightly, and that her sheer absorption in going to town on that asshole had muffled to her perception the blissy, repeating “ah!”s coming from Rose up above, the noisy _shlk_ of Kanaya’s bulge using half its prehensility and half the height and articulation of her body to roll depth into Roxy’s - lover inches deep and back again. Tiny rivulets of green fluid were rolling back through the sheets at such a pace that Roxy could see them moving. Holy shit.

All pretence at dignity was gone now, and she was kind of glad about that, because it was a little more exciting to admit that she was all the way off book than to pretend any of this was some kind of mapped-out choicemaking exercise. She was being guided by her hips, her heart, and the urgent desire of her lips to be pressed back against that spreading, flesh-soft tightness between Kanaya’s lean cheeks.

They met with her asshole in a pressing surge of _want_ and Roxy’s tongue was out between them, lashing, not rolling now but slapping up, circling, her drool easing the way, as she rolled her jaw and chin into Kanaya’s ass in rough sync with the steady motion of her thrusts as she fucked Rose. The click-hum throat noises she was making up above, one arm pressed into the bed, the other splaying a hand through Rose’s hair, seemed to indicate that this was a pretty good move.

Roxy was glad. She had to throw herself forward, panting heavily, pressing her lips close for the bare fractions of seconds she could get steady traction on that puckered hole and sucking noisily, as one hand urged up the weight of Kanaya’s right cheek and groped it heavily. She’d stopped masturbating now - balancing was too hard - but she was still pure firework between her thighs, her slickness lingering on the skin of her legs now, beginning to cool for only a second before fresh, unprecented heat joined it. Her free hand came up and spread Kanaya’s cheeks wider. An elocuted gasp sounded from the click-trill mouth above, and Roxy felt with a dense thrill the fact of having made that pleasure transpire. She eased her left thumb against the circling weight of Kanaya’s asshole, not pushing in but exerting sawing pressure, in untidy concert with her tongue’s slippering spread and tip, the smear of her lips. It was all wetness and heat and the taut, swallowable taste of her. Fuck!

All their noises were nearly indistinguishable from each other now: the suck- _slrp_ of Roxy’s lips pulling back against the tender flesh of Kanaya’s asshole as her thumb worked its pad against and into it, the slipper-weight of Kanaya’s bulge almost audibly challenging Rose’s sex to contain her - and Rose’s gasping, her heaving, her panting, all of a piece with the low thrumming moans Roxy could hear in her own throat. If you had swapped their positions, she was struck with the sudden conviction, they would have sounded exactly the same.

She couldn’t remember, even ten seconds later, who came first. Only the _oh-oh-oh_ of Rose’s climax, and the whining tensure of her own, and the throat-click interspersed gasps of Kanaya and the sudden lashing tension of that flexing tight-warmth against her thumb, her licking tongue soothing her through the orgasm, and the swirling smell of Kanaya’s seed overspilling Rose’s sex and vapouring the room with her breeding scent. Roxy leaned blush-faced, nearly collapsing, against Kanaya’s quaking hips. Everything felt thick: her lips, her tongue, her thoughts, the pulsing, slowed-down rate at which she was momentarily experiencing life. Post-orgasmic heat ebbed through her in tasked sallies.

She had hit a climax just from eating ass.

Granted, it had been alien ass. Maybe that made it slightly kinda better. Right?

Sure. Like a special delicacy. And also the alien in question, who was a beautiful xeno babe, had been fucking her mo - most Rose-like friend at the time, so…

Oh, jeez. Roxy grated her lips in a kiss against Kanaya’s inner cheek, curving to one side out of the slobbery wetness she’d left in the supple valley between them, and heaved in breath, taking a less head-heavy smell of simple skin that still smelled like showers and aloe. She kissed Kanaya there again, urgingly, and thought about a life where she just kept kissing. Didn’t have to be on the ass: that was like, bonus points, yeah, but. Kissing Rose: kissing Kanaya: being pinned between the two of them as they kissed each other.

To be honest, even just getting to witness them doing it sounded pretty good. _Had_ sounded pretty good, too. God - so noisy! So much - so responsive, she could feel how responsive they were together even only seeing the corner pieces of the puzzle and feeling Kanaya’s body thrumming in matched-up climax-seeking with Rose and every limber muscle tensing -  

She blinked. There was a stubby-fingered hand reaching over the edge of the bed. Rose’s strewn hair and half-lidded eyes soon followed.

Roxy realised, with a ‘hah!’ gasp, that Kanaya was only not moving because she was letting her lean on her. A glance up revealed that she was half-twisted around, watching the blonde-haired girl lean against her angular rear with a ghostly smile - which was to say, obviously entirely there in spirit, even though the actual movement of her lips was very slight. Her fangs cross-barred them.

Rose patted the bedsheets.

“Come on up,” she said, voice full of liking. And Roxy did.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this very smutty story! If you did, you can find more of my writing at obstreperose.tumblr.com. I take requests of all kinds, and would love to hear all your no doubt wonderful prompts!


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